


Summertime, Save Me

by ellipsometry



Series: fishvain au [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aphrodisiacs, Come Inflation, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Overstimulation, Oviposition, Shark Sylvain, Size Kink, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Wet & Messy, belly bulge, sylvain is a shark with two dicks and now he has eggs that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellipsometry/pseuds/ellipsometry
Summary: Sylvain takes a deep breath, which would be strange enough knowing that he barely needs oxygen to live, that his lungs are mostly facsimile.  But he looks like he’s going through the motions of calming himself down; or maybe just giving Felix time to prepare.“I need to mate.”And Felix, it turns out, is not prepared at all.Felix won't let Sylvain spend his mating season alone.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: fishvain au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994251
Comments: 8
Kudos: 245
Collections: FE3H Monsterfucking Weekend 2020





	Summertime, Save Me

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY SPOOKY MONSTERFUCKING HALLOWEEEN!! as always thank u to [casey](https://www.twitter.com/eggyankee) for making fishvain a thing. you can find me on horny twit at [@ellipsotiddy](https://www.twitter.com/ellipsotiddy) if u want!

There are problems, Felix discovers, with dating an actual deep-sea monster.

“You’re distracted.”

The pause before Sylvain pouts and insists _no I’m not_ doesn’t do much to lend credence to his case. He’s been spacey all day, all _week_ really, and ordinarily Felix wouldn’t think too much about it or give a shit, really, except—

“I put this fucking swimsuit on and everything.”

“You—” Sylvain perks up at that, finally looking over at Felix with his eyebrows high on his forehead. Ordinarily, Felix’s beach attire is as thoughtless as throwing on a compression top and some basketball shorts. But once Sylvain enters the picture, he starts making more of an effort, throwing some actual bathing suits into the rotation, even if the idea of _dressing up_ for his boyfriend is borderline mortifying. Today’s selection is a pair of tight shorts and a zip-up top, and he’d expected Sylvain to have a bit more of a reaction before sinking back into his thoughts.

Sylvain’s curls a hand around Felix’s hip, and he smiles. “Babe, you look so cute.”

The back of Felix’s neck goes hot even at that small bit of praise. “Nice of you to finally notice. Don’t dodge the question, what’s wrong?”

Sylvain sighs, in the way Felix has come to understand means _oh, it’s shark-man sea creature stuff, you wouldn’t understand, don’t worry about it._ All the little quirks of his that Felix catalogues over time, all the strange things about Sylvain that he comes to love – well, there’s still a gulf of difference between them. Maybe it should be insurmountable; Felix is just too stubborn to let it be.

Or, maybe Sylvain is too easy to manipulate. “Tell me what’s wrong or I’m not fucking you for a month.”

He doesn’t expect the way Sylvain laughs, how he can feel it rumbling through his body where’s he still sitting, tucked up against Sylvain’s chest. “Oh, sweetheart. Normally that’d work on me so fast, but…”

Felix grumbles, untangling himself from Sylvain’s arms and pulling himself up onto the dock instead, looking down at where Sylvain is still lounging against the warm shoreline rocks. “But what?”

And Sylvain looks a bit… pained, actually, when he says, “I need to leave for a little bit. Just a bit.”

Felix’s stomach drops. “Why? Where are you going? How long?”

He must look panicked, because Sylvain grabs his calf, gently running that massive thumb across his ankle bone. “Not long. Maybe a few weeks?” Felix is not proud of the distraught squeak he lets out, but at least it brings a smile to Sylvain’s face. “Aw, you don’t wanna be away from me that long?”

“Shut up,” Felix grumbles, kicking a laughing Sylvain away. “I’m serious, tell me what’s going on. If you have to go, I need to know why. No bullshit.”

Sylvain takes a deep breath, which would be strange enough knowing that he barely needs oxygen to live, that his lungs are mostly facsimile. But he looks like he’s going through the motions of calming himself down; or maybe just giving Felix time to prepare.

“I need to mate.”

And Felix, it turns out, is not prepared at all.

+

The first time Felix calls Sylvain his _boyfriend_ , Sylvain treats it as an almost quaint title. Mermaids – _excuse me, I’m not a mermaid! –_ don’t have boyfriends, or girlfriends, or husbands, or wives. They have _mates_ – and even then, monogamy is an outlier. There are only so many of them, after all, and they need to propagate their species when they can. Finding a compatible species and going through the motions of mating is complicated enough without having to worry about a nail-biting spouse at home. Hell, even _home_ is a strange concept to Sylvain’s people, he explains.

It’s all very complicated, is the thing.

“I don’t care,” Felix announces, once Sylvain goes through his spiel. Felix doesn’t like complicated. Felix likes getting to the fucking point.

Which is: Sylvain is entering his mating season, something that only comes around every four or five years. The urge to mate is inescapable, all-consuming, like fire in Sylvain’s bloodstream – or, so he explains. Sylvain can spend it alone, or find a partner to help him through, but to go through the full mating custom is an ordeal, something ancient and ritualistic, to ensure the eggs can be incubated properly.

“Eggs?”

“Eggs,” Sylvain nods. And, just for good measure, repeats, “Eggs.”

Felix wipes a hand down his face, “Goddess, Sylvain. I thought you were just going to say you were extra horny or something.”

Sylvain chuckles, tugging Felix back into his lap. The sun is setting, the water around them cooling. “Well, that too. It’s a bit painful, honestly.”

They stay like that for another minute or two, Felix pressing his ear to Sylvain’s chest to hear his rabbit-quick heartbeat, feel the warmth of his skin. He’s flushed already, just from a small bit of skin-to-skin contact, and something curls warm in the pit of Felix’s stomach thinking of Sylvain being so _affected_ by him. Ordinarily, Felix is the one coming apart at the seams; maybe its Sylvain’s turn to be the mess.

“Well, okay,” Felix breathes, kissing the hollow of Sylvain’s throat, trailing his mouth up the salt-soaked skin, until his lips are tracing the corner of Sylvain’s mouth, teasing. “Are we doing this, or what?”

“Are we—” Sylvain’s lips brush Felix’s, and he almost surrenders into the kiss before pulling back abruptly. “We’re not—Felix I’m not going to _mate_ with you!”

“Oh.”

“Wait,” Sylvain feels his mistake immediately, and tugs Felix’s back with one hand wrapped around each bicep. “Wait, wait, wait. I don’t mean it like that. It’s just—”

“Complicated,” Felix deadpans. But he can feel the promising swell of Sylvain’s cocks beneath him, coming unsheathed already. “I told you I don’t give a shit. You’re not fucking off into the ocean to jack off alone for a month.”

“That’s not… exactly it.”

_Oh_. Does Sylvain mean to mate with someone else, then? Some other creature, maybe one more suited to him, who could actually carry his eggs until they hatched? Sylvain had mentioned during his little explainer that humans weren’t exactly compatible for the full mating process, that most couldn’t handle it – but that wouldn’t extend to _Felix_ , would it? Felix has taken _more_ than enough to show that he’s no slouch in the bedroom – or, well, what passes for a bedroom when your boyfriend has a shark tail instead of legs. And besides—

“Woah, okay, slow down,” Sylvain is rubbing his hands up and down Felix’s arms, and it’s only now that Felix realizes he’s been rambling aloud to himself, working himself up into a slow simmer. “Look,” and now Sylvain finally looks him in the eye. He looks _tired_ for the first time in however long Felix has known him. “We definitely have our… ways of getting a mate. But I haven’t done that before, I’ve always been alone.”

_Alone_. The word comes off Sylvain’s tongue so easily, just another fact he’s probably rolled around in his mind. _The water is warm today; it’s a full moon out; I’m alone, alone, alone._

Felix curls further into Sylvain’s chest. They’re not far from the Fraldarius guest house; if he wanted, Rodrigue could probably peek out the kitchen window and find his son canoodling with a half-shark, half-man that’s easily two- or three-times Felix’s size. That is, if anyone but Felix were home, if anyone but Felix hadn’t already become disillusioned with the salt air and scalding sand of late summer.

Felix might have left, too. Something – someone – keeps him coming back.

He knocks his head against Sylvain’s breastbone, hiding the red blush creeping over his face.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

+

The moon is hanging overhead by the time Felix talks Sylvain down from his reservations. His resolve breaks quickly in the face of Felix’s feverish kisses up and down his neck, the sheer stubbornness of his entire being. 

But what finally breaks Sylvain is, “You know, I wasn’t like this before I met you.”

“Oh yeah?” Sylvain grins, but Felix doesn’t return the smile; his look is smoldering, the spark of red behind amber eyes.

“Yeah,” Felix breathes, unzipping his top torturously slow. The inches of suntanned skin are making Sylvain’s mouth water. “I wasn’t so insatiable before. So, you should take responsibility.”

Like magic. Sylvain can only hold back so long, and so it’s a quick swim to their favorite spot on the west end of the property, Felix hanging on to Sylvain’s back and laughing, that victorious and rare thing. There’s no fight in him this time, no push and pull, just Felix laying himself out on the moonlit shore, stretching his limbs and grinning up at Sylvain with that docile, pleased look.

“You’re really serious,” Sylvain marvels, tracing small shapes in Felix’s skin with a clawed finger. “You’ll do this for me?”

“Not just for you,” Felix scoffs, holding out his arms in a way Sylvain knows to mean that he wants a kiss and he wants it _now_. Sylvain is happy to oblige, holding himself above Felix, just enough so their lips can brush. “Maybe I also want to mate,” he mumbles, words coming out in a rush, and he can feel Sylvain’s breath catch in his throat, held tight like a promise. “Maybe I want you to breed me.”

The noise that rips from Sylvain’s throat is rough, an animalistic groan, and the gills on the side of his face flare. “Felix,” and just the sound of his name in that low growl and Felix can feel himself growing wet, damp and hot against his shots. “You can’t just—say things like that.”

“I can,” Felix breathes, voice so quiet he’s not sure if Sylvain can even hear him, if not for the way those clawed hands tighten around his hips, dragging his shorts down. “I mean it. Fuck me like you mean it, too.”

It’s really not a lie – Felix _wasn’t_ like this before he met Sylvain. He was never so hungry, so insatiable for close contact with anyone. But once Sylvain pulls him under, Felix stops wanting to come back up for air.

Felix is already dripping by the time Sylvain peels off his shorts, wetness clinging to the fabric as it pulls away. There’s nothing between them now but air and the last bits of apprehension holding Sylvain back, the strings snapping away as he surges forward to kiss the soft spot at the middle of Felix’s chest, trails down his stomach, nose brushing the thatch of thick hair.

Water loving creature that he is, Sylvain can stay between Felix’s thighs for what feels like _hours_ , rough tongue lavishing his pert cock with attention, teasing his hole, licking up the arousal that drips from him, thick and heavy. It’s a futile effort to get him to move on, so Felix doesn’t try; he just grips Sylvain’s hair with white knuckles and bucks his hips up into Sylvain’s welcoming mouth, fucking himself on that massive tongue, wide enough to stretch him more than any of the run-of-the-mill dildos in Felix’s cabinet at home. He comes undone so easily under Sylvain’s attention, whimpering through a slow-rolling orgasm that has him gasping for air, legs locking tightly around the span of Sylvain’s shoulders.

But Sylvain doesn’t stop.

“S-Syl—c’mon—” Felix goes from pulling Sylvain closer to weakly pushing him away, fingers scrambling against the other man’s scalp as he shakes through another small orgasm, the rough texture of Sylvain’s tongue rubbing at his oversensitive clit.

Felix’s legs twitch helplessly around Sylvain’s head, and another small orgasm takes has him going rigid against the sand, back arching into a tight curve – and now it hits him, that something feels different. Because even now, as Sylvain finally peeks up and rests his head on the side of Felix’s thigh, Felix still feels _hot_. He still wants, even after coming three times in a row.

“What did you—” Felix’s voice catches in his throat, pitching to an embarrassing octave. “What the hell is h-happening?”

“Nothing yet,” Sylvain’s voice is a tease, and he kisses a trail up Felix’s body, damp with sweat, letting the sharp edge of his teeth leave small red scratches in the unblemished skin. “We do have our ways, though, you know.”

As he talks, Sylvain reaches down to grip one of his cocks, slicking his hand with the ample precome. He brings a finger to Felix’s mouth, teasing the knuckle against the seam of his lips. “It’s a kind of aphrodisiac, you know, helps ease along unwilling mates,” Sylvain’s knuckle dips into Felix’s mouth, and Felix lavishes his tongue along the digit, swallowing down the salty liquid. “Not that you need help with that. But it will help you take the eggs.”

The feeling is almost instantaneous, heat growing inside Felix like a weed, blooming from the swollen tip of his dick, crawling up his body to make its home in his chest, a burning, bewildering need that washes his body in a red flush. It’s not just that Felix wants Sylvain, he _craves_ him. No one else, nothing else – not the air in his lungs or the water lapping at his feet are of any concern, only the man in front of him.

Felix wets his lips, and Sylvain echoes the gesture, a tell-tale grin on his face. He looks as hungry as Felix feels, eyes dark with desire, just a thin sliver of honey visible beyond the black hole of his pupil.

“More,” Felix breathes out, voice rattling in his chest. “More, give me more.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Sylvain’s palm is a cool balm against Felix’s heated skin, cupping the side of his neck, thumb brushing his cheekbone. “You couldn’t handle more. It would break your little brain.”

It’s nonsense, but Felix _wants_ that – he wants to be broken, wants to have his mind scooped out and replaced with _Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain_ , wants nothing but his cocks, nothing but his eggs – _fuck, his eggs._

“Syl—” Felix exhales hard, wrapping his arms around Sylvain’s neck. “ _Fuck_ , it feels like I’m on fire. Fuck me, _fuck_.”

“That’s the plan, sweetheart,” Sylvain laughs, something dark and hoarse. “You already wanted to be bred, huh? You were already a slut for it.”

“Sylvain—” Felix is only half-listening now, writhing like a man possessed against the sand, hips bucking up to brush his clit against Sylvain’s cocks, mouth dropped open, the tendons of his neck pulling tight into a silent scream. “Sylvain, please—”

He isn’t sure how long he begs, how long he cries and wails, loud enough anyone near enough to hear might think someone was being murdered on the sands. It’s enough that Felix can tamp down the lingering embarrassment in his chest – and it’s good fortune that Sylvain is also not adept at holding back when it comes to Felix.

“Shh, okay, I’m here,” Sylvain cages Felix in against the sand, and opens his mouth, tongue curling out in a desperate exhale. Felix isn’t thinking when he licks against Sylvain’s tongue, suckles it into his mouth, like another cock he can service, another part of Sylvain he can please.

Finally – _finally_ – Sylvain’s cock kisses up against Felix’s entrance, a wet slide through his lips until Sylvain finally pushes in, so slow. It feels different, not just because of the way the stretch of each ridge seems to light Felix’s on fire – no, it feels bigger, swollen, somehow.

“You feel it?” Sylvain mumbles voice slurred from arousal and from the way his tongue is still plugging Felix’s throat. He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t have to. As Sylvain pushes in, the realization hits Felix like a slap across the face – the _eggs_. Sylvain’s cock is larger than usual, full of eggs that he’s going to fuck into Felix, use to _breed_ him. And Felix can’t hold back the full-body shudder as Sylvain pushes in, torturously slow, until he’s fully sheathed in Felix, stomach bumping up against Felix’s clit.

And then – nothing. Sylvain stays still, exhaling hard as his hands tremble, reaching to wrap around Felix’s thighs, hike them up slightly. It exposes Felix a small bit more, and Sylvain pushes in that impossible bit further, so deep that Felix swears he can feel him in his throat, can taste him coming out of his mouth.

“You see?” Sylvain whispers, pulling his tongue from Felix’s throat and electing to nip at his jawline instead. “How do you think you’ll look when I pump you full?”

Felix looks down with bleary eyes at himself, and the tell-tale bulge in his stomach is there already, Sylvain re-arranging his guts with just a simple press. All the air leaves his lungs in short order, and his hips buck down involuntarily, trying to fuck himself further on Sylvain’s cock, to get him to _move already, damn it._

All Sylvain does is laugh, folding Felix’s legs up to his chest, pressing him down against the sand. “So greedy, my little slut. I’ll fill you up, just wait.”

“F-Fucking—” Felix tries punching at Sylvain’s chest, the huge span of it; tries bucking his hips to no fruition. But Sylvain stays put, face twisting steadily into something almost pained, his eyebrows knitting together, mouth dropped open.

Finally, he starts rocking in and out of Felix, shallow thrusts that still punch the air out of Felix’s lungs. And it’s then that Felix feels it – the first egg, moving up the shaft of Sylvain’s cock, popping inside him with no fanfare at all. Just a small, curious sensation. The egg itself must be a bit smaller than a ping-pong ball, and it feels less solid than Felix is anticipating, almost spongy. _Oh, like roe_ , Felix thinks, delirious. _I’m getting fucked full of fish eggs._

“Is that…” Felix blinks tears from his eyes, and he has time only to catch the way Sylvian nods, before there’s another egg squeezed inside him, bumping up against the first. And _this_ is when it starts to feel strange, an alien sensation, the way they settle in Felix’s gut. Maybe it’s the aphrodisiac, or just how much he’s always hungry for Sylvain, that Felix can start to feel the bone-deep satisfaction hit him – this is where he’s meant to be, what he’s meant to do.

“Fe— _fuck_ , baby, you keep—” Sylvain wails, a broken, animalistic noise, and he presses deep into Felix, another two eggs pushing into his lover. “Y-You’re milking me, baby. You want it so bad, so—”

“I do, I do,” Felix nods, and his eyes squeeze shut, head falling back against the sand in full surrender as Sylvain moves him, pulls him further on his cock. “Please, _fuck_ , give me them, make me—make me take it.”

It’s difficult not to surrender to the haze inside his mind, and so Felix lets himself go under, lets his vision blur and his body go limp and pliant, just something for Sylvain to play with, a toy to breed and fuck to his heart’s content. Sylvain groans like a man possessed each time he fucks an egg into Felix’s willing body, and even though he can’t see it, Felix can _feel_ his stomach bulging, the unfamiliar stretch. It shouldn’t be possible, his body shouldn’t be able to take so much – but he does, again and again, until at least two dozen eggs are jostling inside him, bumping up against his most sensitive spots, the untouched parts of his body that only Sylvain knows. He must come, at some point, but the ever-cresting orgasm never seems to stop, like the eggs and the aphrodisiac and the unfamiliar sensation of it all is keeping him permanently on the edge of coming.

“S-Syl—Let me… I want—” Felix can’t string more than two words together, just babbling half-thoughts, chanting _Sylvain_ and _please_ and _more, more, more._ He’s drooling, saliva dripping down the corners of his mouth, face splotchy red, eyes rimmed with red from unshed tears. A mess – just like he always his around Sylvain.

“Shit, I can’t—” Sylvain is panting like he’s just swam a mile, holding Felix’s thighs so tight that there are small dents in his skin, pink scratches and bruises yet to form. His cock twitches inside Felix and, for once, nothing follows. He’s empty; Felix is full. “I’ve never— _shit,_ I’ve never had so many.”

“S-So… many?” Felix finally peels his eyes open, looking down and – _oh_. He can’t even see where Sylvain is buried inside him over the swell of his own stomach. It looks obscene, like he’s actually pregnant, but the surface slightly bumpy from the texture of the eggs. “Fuck, Sylvain,” Felix starts breathing hard, and _now_ is finally when he comes, clenching hard around Sylvain’s cock even as he starts to pull out, squirting across Sylvain’s torso as he cries.

“I know, I know,” Sylvain marvels, reaching to brush his palm across the swollen shape of Felix. It’s sensitive, strange; Felix whimpers at the sensation. “We’re almost done, okay?”

Felix goes to say _fucking, almost?_ before he remembers – Sylvain’s other cock. It’s the smaller of the two, but it still feels desperately large as Sylvain pushes in, bumping up against the eggs that keep Felix full and tight. His other cock, spent and going soft, rests against the hot button of Felix’s oversensitive clit, rubbing him raw as Sylvain moves. There can’t possibly be more, can there? Felix can’t possibly be made even fuller, right? And still – he finds himself craving it, hips still bucking up into Sylvain like a man possessed, spearing himself on Sylvain’s cock, crying for more.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sylvain’s eyes are dark with want, and a flush crawls across his chest as he buries his second dick deep inside his tiny human. He dips a finger into Felix’s mouth, stretching his cheek taut, making the small noises that fall from Felix’s mouth sound even more obscene, lewd. “So hungry for my come, aren’t you? I’ll fill you, I’m going to, _fuck_ —”

It’s all the warning Felix gets before Sylvain’s head tips back and his cock twitches to life, coming inside Felix, painting his insides, claiming the deepest parts of him. The come feels thinner than usual, dipping into all the small crevices of Felix’s body, filling him so much that it starts to drip out of him where he’s stretched wide around Sylvain. He’s feeding the eggs, Felix realizes, delirious; he’s _fertilizing_ them. Or, he would be, if humans were compatible for mating; none of these eggs will lead to life, all of this is doomed from the start, just an outlet for Sylvain’s mating instinct. 

But, for a moment, as Felix watches his stomach round further, fill with come – he lets himself believe. Believe that he really is being bred, being made to carry Sylvain’s children. What is it like, he wonders, the actual mating ceremony? Would Felix be made to walk around in his every day life, everyone knowing he was knocked up, made a slut by some otherworldly creature? The thought is frying his brain, shockwaves of want pulsing in Felix’s gut, and he reaches for Sylvain, pulling him down into a messy kiss as Sylvain’s cock pulses inside him, filling him far past bursting.

Finally, Sylvain exhales. And he slumps down against the shore, turning ever-so-slightly so he can pull Felix against his chest, his cock still buried deep inside. Felix thinks he hears him mumble _I love you_ , over and over like a prayer, kissing Felix’s face feverishly until they both start to come down from the high of orgasm.

“What would—” Felix shudders, violently enough that Sylvain groans at the way he clenches around his cock. The eggs inside him jostle slightly, bumping against the still-swollen head of Sylvain’s cock. “If we really did mate, what would it be like?”

“Well,” Sylvain starts, eyes darkening curiously, something possessive flashing across his face. Felix can feel Sylvain’s cock respond as well, releasing a fresh flush of thin come that further softens the curve of Felix’s belly. He rubs a hand up and down Felix’s back. “You’d have to stay with me. For a while.”

“O-Obviously,” Felix mutters, breathing heavy against Sylvain’s chest, fingers scraping small thin lines across his biceps. “But you said it was… elaborate.”

“A little,” Sylvain cradles Felix’s head with one massive hand, claws scratching soothingly against his scalp. “You’d have to let me take care of you. No lifting a finger.” Felix groans at that. “There’s some boring ritual stuff, some oils to rub on your stomach, weird stuff like that.”

“Not… so bad.” Felix is falling asleep; he can’t fight it any longer.

Sylvain adds, almost as an afterthought, “And you’d have to stay nice and plugged up, keep all my come and eggs inside.” Felix hums against him, shivering as the sweat between them cools. “You like that, kitten? Nice and warm on my cock, I’ll keep you stuffed.”

He kisses Felix’s forehead, his sweat-soaked brow. It’s a nice thought, Felix thinks, to be kept so safe and protected by Sylvain. He’s never though much about kids; somehow, he knows Sylvain hasn’t either. But maybe there’s an appeal. Maybe humans and merfolk aren’t so incompatible after all.

Felix goes in and out of sleep, fits of wakefulness that still feel like a dream. His stomach is still bloated, but it seems to shrink each time he wakes, always to Sylvain cooing at him softly, tracing featherlight trails in his skin, rubbing the swollen shape of him, teasing his sore clit.

“N-No—” Felix’s vision is blurry, mind still a bit hazed. Sylvain goes to pull his hands away, but Felix grumbles, “No, I mean…”

He means… what, exactly? Felix can’t bring himself to think of anything but how _full_ he feels, how sleepy and sated and warm. It’s a strange experience, something out-of-body; Felix sees himself, looks down on the strange tableau of his body, stretched and almost inhuman, with Sylvain huddling him close, tail curled around him, making a small nest of just the two of them.

“Shh, baby I got you,” Sylvain is always whispering, mumbling sweet words as his hands marvel over Felix’s body. His hands pet at Felix’s over-sore hole, and Felix is too tired to even whine as Sylvain’s finger fucks up into him, just a small flick of his hand, and the dam breaks. Come drips outs, slicking the inside of Felix’s thighs – and, soon after, a rush of eggs escaping, each one popping out of Felix’s hole and sending shivers up his spine. Felix can’t even open his eyes, can see the way they fall into the water and dissolve, the way he’s nearly gaping, hips twitching as he simultaneously tries to force the eggs out and keep them in.

“Sweetheart, you have to let go.” Sylvain kisses the shell of Felix’s ear. He’s holding one of Felix’s thighs, large hand wrapping around it entirely, hiking it up to better expose him. The other hand is rubbing his entrance, sometimes dipping inside to help scoop the eggs out.

“I don’t— _hh!—_ I don’t want to—” Felix cries out, breath coming in small pants at Sylvain presses down on his stomach gently, and a wave of come and eggs are pushed out. It feels obscene and strange, to have his hole clenching weakly around each small sphere popping out, the cold air of the night hitting him and cooling the come that streaks his thighs. “Am I— _shit._ I can still feel them.” Felix bears down, but he’s too weak, too wiped out to expel the last few eggs he can feel, almost sloshing around inside him.

Sylvain makes a small, clicking noise. Without thinking, Felix knows it’s something protective, maybe some part of his language that Felix doesn’t yet know. He never did ask, did he, if merfolk had some kind of strange language, any other customs, how Sylvain came to be and spent his time before Felix knew him.

“I don’t know,” Felix starts talking, but loses energy, words rolling around in his mouth like marbles. “No more… keeping things from me… I want—” What _does_ he want, exactly? It’s hard to put it into words; Felix doesn’t have experience with romance, with feeling anything like this for someone else.

So, he settles on, “I want everything.”

Sylvain seems struck dumb for a moment, hands pausing in their roaming across Felix’s body. Felix can’t see his face, but he can hear the way Sylvain’s throat goes tight when he answers, so soft, “Promise.”

He sounds like he’s about to cry.

“Tired,” Felix mumbles, head lolling back against Sylvain’s broad shoulder. He’s still warm, coming down from the aphrodisiac, blood still running hot through his body. Falling asleep like this, so vulnerable and open, would be unwise in any other circumstance. But, as it stands, Sylvain is here, protectively curled around Felix still, whispering small, soothing words in his ear. It feels better than Felix wants to admit, to surrender so completely all his power to someone else. Felix has never been in love like this before – it feels strange to fall, to _let_ himself.

Sylvain will be there to catch him.


End file.
